


Elevator

by taylor_tut



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Being Awesome, Protective Hank Anderson, Sick Character, Sick Connor, Sickfic, Worried Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Very simple sickfic in which Hank is trapped in a broken elevator with an overworked, overheating, exhausted, injured Connor. Gavin is their errand boy who mans the little elevator emergency speaker, but he's not happy about it.





	Elevator

I love this! have a short ficlet! 

Hank rolled his eyes when he looked over to Connor, who was once more in rest mode, his chin on his palm. 

“Connor!” Hank shouted, slapping a hand on his desk and watching him startle dramatically.

“I’m up!” he reassured. One hand flew immediately to his side to grip at the place where he’d been stabbed by a deviant in an altercation. The replacement parts were on their way, but being too busy  to enter rest mode had prevented the self repairs from stitching up the laceration, and it was still sending annoying red damage alerts across his vision when he moved.

He sighed. Connor looked miserable and tired. 

“I thought I told you to go home last night, kid,” Hank softened. “You’ve been here for days. Don’t you need to charge or something?”

Connor shook his head, but the motion made his vision fill with static. “I’m fine, Lieutenant,” he promised. “I’ve got a portable charger that can sustain my functionality in the short-term.”

Hank studied his face for a long moment. Connor’s short term charge was designed to allow him to pull an all-nighter or even two in an emergency, but this was the fourth morning that Hank had arrived to find out that Connor hadn’t left, or even stopped working for more than a fifteen minute charge. His energy levels had to be low, even if they were sustainable, and he looked like he was having trouble focusing. Hank had already caught him dozing a few times already, and it clearly wasn’t getting any better. 

“Go home, Connor,” Hank said gently. When Connor opened his mouth to argue, Hank held up a hand. “That’s an order. Go charge and come back. I don’t need you shorting out or catching on fire or some shit.”

“That’s not--”

“Come on,” Hank commanded, “I’ll drive you home.” Reluctantly, Connor stood, wavering slightly, and shut his computer down, gathering a few files in his arms. “Leave them,” Hank ordered without looking up, smirking when he heard Connor drop a bulky stack of files. 

“You don’t have to do this, Lieutenant,” Connor said meekly. “The investigation--” 

“I’ll come back once you’re all settled in,” Hank promised. “You good to go?” Connor nodded.

As soon as they got into the elevator, Connor rested his head on the back of the wall and closed his eyes. Everything he did sent alerts of minor injuries and overexertion across his visual field, and it was distracting. Without a charge, his thirium pump was struggling to pump hard enough to circulate through his whole system, making blue blood pool in his head uncomfortably to maximize functionality, and the pressure was intense, near painful, if he could experience such a thing. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand to relieve the pressure, and Hank frowned when he looked over at him. 

“You hangin’ in there?” he asked. Connor nodded without opening his eyes, then staggered forward into Hank when the elevator jerked to a stop suddenly. Hank steadied him by the elbow, but turned his attention to the elevator buttons as soon as Connor was balanced. He pressed the ground floor button a few times, but the display was dull, and the elevator didn’t move. Hank pressed the “door open” button and they parted, but they were between floors, and there wasn’t enough room to get out onto the second floor, barely a few inches at the bottom of the elevator.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “this is just what I needed today. I think the elevator’s stuck.” 

Connor looked troubled, but didn’t say anything as Hank pressed the emergency button and shouted into the speaker. 

“Is anyone there?” Hank called. “We’re stuck!” 

Static clicked as someone picked up the phone on the other side, then Connor’s stomach dropped. 

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Gavin Reed answered. 

Hank sighed. “Gavin,” he replied, “great. We’re stuck in the elevator; can you get maintenance?” 

“Who’s ‘we?’” 

“Me and Connor.”

Gavin snorted. “Maintenance is already on the way,” he said. “It’s all the elevators, plus the lights in the stairwell, so everyone’s pretty much frozen until they fix it.”

Hank cursed, running a hand through his damp hair--it was getting hot in the confined space already. “Have they given an estimate on how long it’ll take?” 

“Few hours,” Gavin replied. 

Ignoring Gavin despite him still clearly being on the other side of the speaker, Hank turned his attention back to Connor. He’d already sat down on the floor in the corner, and his eyes were shut again. While Hank was starting to sweat, Connor had pulled his jacket tightly around his body. 

“You gonna be good for another few hours?” he asked. Connor cracked an eye open and nodded, but the complete lack of Connor-brand enthusiasm was underwhelming and worrisome. He pressed a hand to Connor’s forehead--even if he couldn’t get fevers like a human, maybe it would be comforting--and frowned at the heat he found there. “Why are you burnin’ up?” he asked. 

Connor’s teeth were chattering through his answer. “My systems are overheating slightly from exertion,” he replied. “Running on low battery for long periods of time can produce unpleasant side effects.” 

God, sometimes Hank could swear Connor was more human than some of the people in this office. 

“Gavin,” Hank called back into the speaker, still crouched by Connor, “don’t go far, alright? In case I need ya.”

Gavin huffed. “I’ve got work to do,” he replied. “I can’t sit here all day.” 

“It’s not all day,” Hank argued, “and you’ve got a tablet computer. Connor’s not feelin’ so hot, and I want someone out there to grab him anything he needs.” 

“What the fuck do you mean, the tin man is sick?” he asked skeptically, unkindly. “He’s a piece of plastic.” 

Hank bristled, but held his tongue. “He’s overheating and exhausted,” Hank replied. The heat that was swirling around the elevator, he realized, was radiating from Connor, but the kid was shivering. “You can’t possibly be cold,” he muttered. 

Connor looked embarrassed. “My temperature sensors are malfunctioning,” he admitted. Hank sighed. 

“Gavin, go to my desk and grab my coat; pass it through the bottom of the elevator.” 

He could hear Gavin stomp off mumbling expletives under his breath, but he was still his superior, so he didn’t argue. 

“Hank,” Connor said, near whined, “I should have obeyed your orders and gone home earlier. We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t--” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Hank cut him off. “It just sucks that you’re stuck in here like this. How are you feelin’?”

Connor hesitated for a long moment. “Not great,” he admitted. “My sensors are saying I’m cold, though it’s not, and there’s a lot of pressure in my head.”

Hank winced sympathetically. “My coat should warm you up, but I don’t know how much I can do about the rest of the stuff.” 

Connor shook his head. “It’s alright,” he reassured. “I’m fully functional.”

That wasn’t the issue, and Hank wanted to argue that, but his coat suddenly hit him in the feet. Hank fed it through the hole and was able to see Gavin’s face, scowling. 

“Thanks, Reed,” Hank said, “I owe you one.” 

Gavin rolled his eyes and said something rude, but Hank could see that his other hand held a tablet with a case file open on the screen. What an obedient fucking prick. 

“Here, Connor,” Hank said, covering his torso with the jacket and tucking it around his smaller frame, “this should warm ya up.” His LED was yellow, probably a warning about his power levels, but flashed red as he nudged Connor’s side. He flinched, startling Hank.

“What the hell?” Hank asked quietly. “What’s wrong with your side?”

“I, uh, haven’t had a chance to enter rest mode and repair the damage done by the deviant in our fight yesterday,” Connor explained, but that only deepened Hank’s frown. 

“Kid, that was two days ago.” 

Connor blinked. “Oh,” he said simply. “Everything’s a bit… fuzzy.”

Hank pressed his palm to Connor’s forehead and winced when he found it seemingly even hotter than just ten minutes ago. 

Hank bit the inside of his cheek as Connor tried and failed to adjust to a comfortable position on the floor of the elevator. 

“Why can’t I sit comfortably?” Connor asked, sounding vaguely irritated. “Everything feels… wrong.”

Hank sat against the wall of the elevator with his legs out, then pat his lap for Connor to scoot close. He hesitated. 

“Lieutenant,” Connor stalled, “I don’t want to be inappropriate, and--you said you were overly warm, and the overheating of my systems could--”

“Just lay your head down and shut your mouth,” Hank interrupted. “Christ, why’s everything such a battle with you?”

Connor’s LED flashed red and Hank regretted berating his sick partner. 

“I don’t mean to be combative,” Connor apologized. “I’m just… not feeling well.”

Hank tugged him down so that he was lying on the floor of the elevator with his head in Hank’s lap and adjusted the jacket over him once more. 

“I know, kid,” Hank told him, “don’t sweat it. No one’s pleasant when they’re sick. You’re not doing anything wrong. Just get some rest, alright? We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Connor didn’t have the energy to argue.


End file.
